


Primal

by cynicalwerewolf



Series: Wormholes, Spaceships, and Cloud Pine Branches [4]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 00:51:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalwerewolf/pseuds/cynicalwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dag was never expected to amount to much, which only made his promotion to Head of Security all the sweeter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primal

Although there was much important work to be dealt with, especially as he had been given his promotion and then immediately sent to fetch Lord Vorkosigan from the Barrayaran Embassy for his Celestial Majesty before the funeral of Dowager Empress Lisbet, Dag Benin paused a moment after entering his new office to savor the heights that he had achieved.

He allowed himself less than a second of pride, knowing he could far too easily fall from those heights with fatal results. But for a ghem from an insignificant branch of a minor family, whose daemon had settled as an ungeneered Terran creature…

Before it happened, and to him of all people, he’d have said it was impossible.

Ivaryah, Dag’s daemon, nipped his hand, bringing him back to reality. She mockingly stated, “Get your head out of the clouds or you’re likely to lose it, Two-Legs.”

True enough.

With a fond look down at his coyote daemon, Dag responded, “Of course, Trouble Squared. After all, I can only find it with your help.”

The formalities thus discharged, Dag made his way to the desk that had once been ghem-General Naru’s.

After seating himself and surveying the immediate territory, Dag decided that he would further scandalize the Celestial Security Bureau by bringing in Ivaryah’s favorite cushion on the morrow. The floors might be elegant, but they were also hard on daemon paws, even harder on daemon arses. Now that he was in charge of the division with clear Celestial favor he could afford the demonstration of a little eccentricity.

It would also help to make people underestimate the sentimental, Clan-reft, primitive bastard. Throwbacks were said to dote overmuch on their sadly unenhanced companions, after all.

Of course, that those with enhanced daemons frequently made similar, or greater, allowances for their companions went unremarked. For example, when this office had belonged to Naru, there had been a tank of water stocked with tidbits for his _Chlorolestes conspicuus novacula penna magnes_ daemon (Dag had to roll his eyes at the pretension inherent in calling a giant razor-winged damselfly by the full Linnaean taxonomy) to feast on and rest by. _That_ was acceptable, but bringing in a cushion for a coyote daemon was overly affectionate.

At least the tank had been cleared out. It had likely been removed as soon as news of Naru’s death had reached the Celestial Garden. Say what you would about Cetagandan ceremonies of fealty, the actual changing of the guard tended to be efficient.

After making certain that none of his new subordinates had performed any juvenile acts of sabotage, less likely in this Bureau but still a possibility, Dag keyed into the comconsole and began scanning the messages.

There was nothing that required his immediate attention. It was a pleasant state of affairs that Dag didn’t expect to last.

Dag was relieved to see a report that the Barrayaran transport seconded to Lords Vorkosigan and Vorpatril had cleared the Eta Cetan jump point. While they were still his concern as long as they remained in the Imperium, he was no longer directly accountable for Miles.

Or _to_ Miles, for that matter. Given that the only way that their interview could have been more embarrassing was if Miles had been acting like Dag’s great-uncle, rather than his commanding officer. 

Dag wondered in passing what Ramal Benin would have to say about his great-nephew’s accession. Probably something along the lines of, _‘Keep your eyes on the ground as well as the sky, pup, or your star is like to become a comet.’_ Great-uncle Ramal had always had a penchant for drama and an interest in ancient symbolism.

The harmonics of the room changed, signaling an incoming message. The sequence of tones denoted a personal holo-message.

Dag frowned. On the shuttle, Miles- Lord Vorkosigan- had mentioned an interest about keeping in touch. But the Barrayaran understood security well enough to know that the head of security should never be bothered with personal matters when he was on duty.

Pressing his lips together, Dag looked who had sent the message. And felt himself going pale with rage. 

The message was from Captain Kham Benin.

Dag’s biological father.

With a mental jerk, Dag forced himself to ignore the message and put aside his anger for a time.

Now was not the time to indulge his temper. There was too much work to be done.

* * *

Dag currently lived in military service housing built for hyaku operatives. The hyaku at least didn’t sneer at Ivaryah’s ungeneered form. There were also fewer security risks from the hyaku than there would have been from his fellow ghem.

Any ghem who lived outside of their clan or clan-family’s holdings, military or not, were disgraced.

Some fallen ghem were like Dag, reveling in the greater independence that their tarnished reputation earned them. Others… became consumed by a need to restore their standing. Although their antics could be entertaining, in a nasty and vicious way, there were very good reasons for individuals with status to avoid these fallen.

Fortunately, it was a rare consumed who had the presence of mind and the ability to masquerade as a libertine. The only one Dag knew of was Letal Yenaro, who _had_ managed to publically redeem himself. 

Recently.

A few operatives were present when Dag entered the building, and he got respectful nods from all present. Respectful, and more than a bit gleeful. The hyaku who Dag lived with considered the ghem officer almost one of their own.

Dag entered his apartment, heated one of the pre-made dinners the service left, and settled into his console chair, Ivaryah settling herself in the basket beneath his desk.

He didn’t want to hear the message his father had sent, but he thought it best to investigate before he got himself worked up further.

When he opened his message file, he saw there was a new message from Great-Uncle Ramal as well.

Although he was more interested in what his uncle had to say, Dag opened his father’s message, saving Great-Uncle Ramal’s message as a reward for getting through this one.

The message from Kham Benin was everything Dag had expected. 

_‘My son. Felicitations on your ascension to Chief of Celestial Security. If you would come to dinner next week, I wish to speak with you about matters of import to the family. Captain Kham Benin.’_

There was no acknowledgement that Dag had been disowned by his father and the rest of his immediate family when Ivaryah settled, and the appropriate formalities weren’t present. And the use of the term ‘felicitations’ was as insulting a word choice as Dag could conceive, with its implications that his promotion was more a result of luck than skill.

Dag did not deny that fortune had played a part in his ascent, but so had skill, and with Ivaryah as she was, no amount of fortune would have raised him to such lofty heights without a greater amount of capability.

Once he was calm enough, Dag recorded a message composed of only the simplest variant of the disownment ceremony, “I know no father named Kham Benin. The only father I know is Ramal Benin.”

The message was blunt to the point of rudeness, but Dag knew that any more favorable response would only encourage his biological father to continue making offensive overtures and attempting to curry favor.

Once the message was sent, Dag listened to Great-Uncle Ramal’s message.

His uncle was seated at his desk wearing a casual bodysuit in the cut and color he had always preferred, his lioness daemon Vradha at his side, and an expression of mixed pleasure and amusement on his face.

_Nephew,_

_Most interesting and enthusiastic congratulations are in order for your promotion… and victory. Although no such triumph can be permanent in this arena, you have achieved the greatest one that any such as we are can. But never forget that what has risen can fall with far less effort._

_One assumes that you are researching your new colleagues and are analyzing them thoroughly, both from a political and personality standpoint. If you need assistance in that arena, you need only ask. Vradha and I are willing to place our experience at your disposal._

_The gardens at the estate miss you and Ivaryah. Remember that a son of the house is always welcome there. It would be pleasant to see you again in the flesh._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Great-Uncle, Ramal Benin_

Dag found himself grinning at the ironically mentioned ‘estate’. His uncle was as much a disgrace to the house as Dag, and for the same reason, but his insights in the analysis of personality by examining their daemon had earned him a place in ghem society. 

It might not have been as significant if the ghem hadn’t ignored daemons for so long, but now demonology was making a comeback thanks to Ramal Benin’s insights in the various skirmishes. Not all of them had been heeded, because Ramal was a throwback, but he made enough fuss that everyone knew who was to blame for the failures. It had earned him the undying enmity of several clans, but his intuitive grasp of daemonology had won him patronage, and the townhouse ‘estate’ Dag had lived in from when he was twelve until le left for military training was well defended against intruders.

Uncle Ramal had taught him that the best victory was by winning when the deck was stacked against you.

It had been part of what fascinated his great uncle about Piotr Vorkosigan.

And what interested Dag about Miles Vorkosigan.


End file.
